Illustration: Dylan John Meek

Women of all ages were milling around, draped in neon, waiting for the Lights Up ride to begin. There were fairy lights wrapped around handlebars and reflective strips catching the late afternoon November sun. There was a collective buzz of excitement in the air, accompanied by a sense of defiance.

Manchester became the European Capital of Cycling in 2024, a recognition of a commitment to its two-wheeled community. But for many women, cycling in the city still has a long way to go.

I ride my bike almost every day – to uni, meet friends, simply to move my body. But it isn’t always easy. Drivers cut too close. Pedestrians step out unexpectedly. And I avoid the dimly-lit shortcuts and isolated park paths that aren’t worth the risk.

As a woman, cycling in the city comes with a mental map etched with fear. I take note of locations where I’ve felt vulnerable and other female riders warn me to avoid. I brace myself for the worst every time I ride my bike.

I am always on high alert. With each ride, my list of places to avoid grows steadily, relentlessly. Cycling through fear is relentless.

At other times cycling makes me feel unstoppable and strong. I can forget my own vulnerability in a brief illusion of freedom, where fear fades. I know there is a community of women who feel the same, but I rarely see them.

Tonight, I can. Lights Up is an annual event led by Manchester’s bicycle mayor Belinda Everett, part night-time bike ride, part celebration of female visibility. It unites a community of women to ride together to be seen and heard.

There are 180 women riders: colourful, cheerful; full of light and energy. My usual cycling solitude is replaced by an overwhelming sense of community. Laughter reclaims the streets as we take over with bright colours, flashing lights and chanting. We move in unified motion, an unstoppable force of purpose and power.

“Whose streets?” someone calls out. “OUR STREETS!” we roar back.

Whitworth Park and Platt Fields Park are places I would never cycle through alone at night. But the spaces which once felt too dangerous are suddenly ours. Lights Up is about reclaiming what has always been out of reach. And I am part of that.

Every pedal stroke is an act of defiance, a statement that we have an absolute right to occupy these spaces and feel safe. We are dismantling the boundaries that have kept us fearful for so long. Streets once off-limits have become ours, nothing can hold us back.

We arrive at Victoria Baths for the aAh! Magazine X Lights Up Exhibition. Once a place of gender-segregated swimming, these public baths are now a celebratory space. Artworks line the walls – vibrant posters, bold portraits and film. 

For Manchester Met Illustration and Animation student Sarah Beck, whose portraits celebrate the grit of female athletes and who has lived with chronic illness since her teens, the work is deeply personal.

“I would love to see more representation of women with chronic illness achieving success,” she says. “It would’ve given the younger me more hope and inspiration to keep fighting on.”

Belinda Everett speaks to the riders. “We don‘t want Lights Up to be an annual event. We want to get to the point where it’s not needed.” I think about this as I ride home. I’m alone again, and so I am vulnerable again; but somehow I feel less so. 

The map of out-of-bounds places is still engraved in my mind. It needs to remain there for my safety and wellbeing, but now it feels smaller, less intimidating. 
I’m part of a community now.